


So Many Mysteries..

by Lionessinthedark



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, EMP-theory, Fix-It, Happy ending (I promise!), Loss of Parents, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Murder, Post Season 4, Sherlock (TV) Season/Series 04 Fix-it, Suicide, post season 4/series 3, s4 fix it, season 4 fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:20:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9413582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lionessinthedark/pseuds/Lionessinthedark
Summary: An attempt of a fix-it of season 4, episode 3There might be plot-holes. And I've introduced yet another Holmes sibling. And it might be a bit crazy. But....if the professional writers can do this, then so can I! And a lot of things are not what they seem to be. There is more than one layer in this story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine that TST is the same and so is TLD, and TFP, but just as TFP fades out, we are suddenly transferred to the Diogenes' club, where John, Sherlock, Eurus and Mycroft are sitting in the comfortable sitting-chairs in the visitors room, where you are allowed to talk.

Eurus is just putting down a bunch of papers on the table beside her and asks, “Well, what do you think?”

 

John looked at her. He hadn't quite forgiven her the prank of shooting him with a tranquillizer and Sherlock was still a bit pissed off by that too.

 

“Well”, said John, “A film-manuscript. That was a surprise. But if I'm the first to say something.... It stinks, Eurus. You might have been a good therapist. Even a good actor, acting to be all those different persons and that rather convincingly. But a writer! That you are not....There are plot-holes in that story at the size of galaxies. And you can't just borrow all those tropes from other horror-movies. One...or even two, can be allowed. But I've counted at least 15: The Ring, Saw, Shutter Island, The Silence of the lambs, The Shining and several James Bond movies.....Just to mention a few. It is bad and sloppy writing.....”

 

As John stopped, Sherlock pointed at John while he looked at Eurus, “And you made John into a bumbling side-kick of an incompetent soldier and doctor. Into a man who couldn't defend himself or others...or for that matter recognize dogs bones from the bones of a child! And I would never ignore a 'Vatican Cameos' from John. It has saved my life too many times.”

 

“Yeah, but...”, defended Eurus herself, “...I made you into an almost heroic Bond-character, didn't I?”

 

Sherlock huffed, “Allowing you to drag us around by our noses and none of us tried to fight you or your followers? Well...that is very Bond-like!”

 

And then Sherlock pointed at Mycroft, “And you made my brother into an incompetent and weak man. Mycroft who...even if I hate to admit it....still had the skills and bollocks to get me out of Serbia. To do leg-work...even if I still find it a bit difficult to forgive him that he allowed the thug to beat me that much, before he intervened in that dungeon in Serbia.”

 

John nodded. He had finally seen Sherlock's back and had felt rather guilty as he learned how wounded Sherlock had been then, at The Landmark. And both he and Sherlock had talked quite a lot about feeling guilty about leaving one behind and hurting each other. It was sort of settled by now, even if John had a nagging feeling that Sherlock hadn't told him everything.

 

Mycroft looked at Eurus with his one eyebrow lifted, “And even if I acted a bit heroically and a rather stupidly, by teasing Sherlock into shooting me instead of John near the end, I can assure you that I would not vomit by the sight of a man's brain distributed on the wall. Nor would I have refrained from fighting the security, as they apprehended us. Nor would John or Sherlock. I know their skills. What they...and I...are capable of. Believe me, Eurus. We would have fought.”

 

“But I brainwashed you, didn't I?”, said Eurus, “I could brainwash you, by just talking to you. I brainwashed Jim Moriarty......and made him commit suicide later on. After just 5 minutes together with me.”

 

Sherlock shook his head, “Even if I can understand your wish to be...omnipotent, sister, I can't understand how that could be possible. Unless of course you are a mutant like those in those films, John loves.....what are they called?”

 

John looked at him, “X-men?”

 

Sherlock smiled, “Yes...exactly! And even if we are geniuses, we do not posses such powers in the real world. Maybe this could have been done if you had been green or blue and had been an alien. But honestly Eurus....why? And one thing more: all those inconsistencies and improbabilities: why did you return to the prison? How did you transport me and John to Musgrave Mansion? How many men had you to build the false room around me and how did John get out of that well? For God's sake. You had just told that he was chained to the bottom? Why couldn't I distinguish between a dog and a boy? And honestly...if a boy had gone missing, wouldn't a lot of people have done quite an effort to find him? And I can assure you that Victor Trevor was very much alive, last time I spoke with him. No, Eurus.....as John said: sloppy writing...”

 

John had looked up as Sherlock mentioned Victor Trevor. John had never heard him mentioned before. But again. He hadn't told Sherlock much about his friends from Sandhurst or Bart's hospital...or from his childhood either. Or much about James Sholto.

 

And now Mycroft looked at Eurus with his eyebrow arched, “And I fail to see, why 'Sherrinford' should be turned into an 'Azkaban'-like fortress and prison......I do not see the point.”

 

Now Sherlock frowned. “What is 'Sherrinford' actually?”

 

Both Eurus and Mycroft looked at each other and Mycroft gave a little nod and Eurus said, “Not 'what', Sherlock....but 'who'. Sherrinford is your brother.”

 

“My brother?!...Why do you say it like that? I suppose he is Mycroft's too. So why not 'our brother'?

 

Mycroft looked at Sherlock, “Because I'm your brother in the eyes of the law, but not biologically seen. You are adopted....and biological I'm your cousin. That is the reason why you have no memory of Eurus...or Sherrinford. You never lived in the same house after your 3rd year. And cerebral experiments shows that children very seldom can remember anything before the age of about 3...”

 

Sherlock looked at Mycroft several seconds before he asked, “What happened?”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

(I have invented that the words about the Eastwind was originally said, not by ACD's Sherlock Holmes, but by a politician, Neville Chamberlain and predicting WW2)

 

Mycroft took out his watch and looked at it, “I'll have to wait answering that question a few moments. I'm...we are...awaiting a guest, who should arrive by now. After he has arrived, I assure you that I'll tell you the whole thing, but please be patient a while yet...”

 

And that was the exact moment where a knock on the door was heard and a man was shown into the room. John, Eurus, Mycroft and Sherlock rose to welcome the man. They were all brought up well and had learned their manners.

 

(And now I know that if it was in the real series, this could not be possible...or maybe it could be after all. It had been seen on film before. But imagine the man entering is Benedict looking like Khan, but more buff and somehow taller and looking cold and calculating. Dressed just as  meticulously in a 3-piece suit as Mycroft. Just that the suit is almost black and the shirt and tie a very dark shade of grey)

 

Mycroft nodded and reached out his hand, “Welcome, Sherrinford.”

And then Mycroft made a gesture towards John, “Dr. John Watson...Eurus....and of course...your younger brother..”

 

Sherlock just looked at the taller man with his eyes squinted...and then he reached his hand out. As they shook hands, Sherrinford smiled and said, “Well, William. Many years have passed.....and you look more and more like me. I can see that now...”

 

Sherlock just said four words, “My name is Sherlock!”

 

And that did surprise Sherrinford for a brief moment and then he said, “Whatever!” and turned towards John, who actually was almost scrutinizing Sherlock's elder brother, before they shook hands. John could see the remarkable resemblance between Sherrinford and Sherlock, but there was something about Sherrinford that was so much more 'Mycroft' than 'Sherlock'.

 

And after they had all sat down again and Mycroft had gestured towards some plates with biscuits and several bottles of fine cognac, whiskey and port, and asked his guest to provide himself, Mycroft cleared his throat, looked at Sherrinford and Eurus and said, “I suppose that you'd prefer me to tell the story...even if all 3 of us know it by now?”

 

As Sherrinford and Eurus just nodded Mycroft cleared his throat again, turned towards Sherlock and John and began to tell: 

“I'll strive for making it rather short then: In April 1937 two boys were born. And yes...they were identical twins! They were given the names Siger Scott Holmes and Silas Scott Holmes. They did chose different paths in life. One chose to be a scientist...a physicist and the other chose a military career...”

At those words John lifted his head and was about to say something, but just shook his head and remained silent. After all it was Mycroft's job to be the storyteller this time.

 

Mycroft had continued, “They both succeed in their areas: Siger ended up in one of the most secret, but yet prestige-filled governmental facility, namely the 'Baskerville Facility'...”

 

Here both John and Sherlock were about to say something, but kept silent as Mycroft continued, “..and Silas became soon a captain and later a Major and did participate in the Korean war amongst other, lets say 'hostile encounters abroad' and became highly decorated. Nothing indicated that those two young men ever wanted to get married, but on one of his leaves, Silas and together with him his brother Siger, went to town together and met two girls...sisters...and no, they weren't twins. And the initial contact was that they all four found it hilarious that they shared the same surname. The two sisters were Violet Holmes and Marilyn Holmes. They started dating and the next year a double-wedding was celebrated.”

 

Mycroft stopped and took a sip from his drink, “One might have expected that Siger and Violet would have been the first to have a child, seeing that Silas wasn't at home that much...” Mycroft cleared his throat again, “..but Silas and Marilyn were the first to have babies: Sherrinford in '67, Eurus in '69. Then in '71 Siger and Violet had me. Their only child...and you, Sherlock, were born in '78 as the baby-brother to Sherrinford and Eurus. The two families did live far apart and we saw each other only a few times every year, that was about it. The summer and again in the autumn, where you must have been barely 3 years old, we did spend several weeks together at the Family Estate 'Musgrave', belonging to the eldest Holmes-sister, our aunt Marjorie Holmes and now belonging to Sherrinford, as the eldest of us.”

 

John couldn't help noticing that Mycroft had a tiny expression as if he had bitten into a lemon. John doubted that the others would notice, but John was used to Mycroft's micro-expressions by now. (Interesting...so Mycroft would have liked to have inherited 'Musgrave', John thought.)

 

Sherlock interrupted, “The house that you, Euros, burned down in your story?”

 

“The very same. But the false graveyard was not something I invented. It did belong to our neighbour, our Uncle Rudy, who had a bizarre form for humour.”, interrupted Eurus.

 

Sherlock nodded, “It must be in the genes. That bizarre sense of humour. Mycroft used to tease me with that 'the Eastwind would come and take me away', because I was unworthy...”

 

Mycroft smiled a little tight smile before he said, “At a few occasions I have quoted Sir Neville Chamberlain by using his words: “ _There's an east wind coming all the same, such a wind as never blew on England yet. It will be cold and bitter and a good many of us may wither before its blast. But it's God's own wind none the less, and a cleaner, better, stronger land will lie in the sunshine when the storm has cleared._ " You must have confused it with a game we used to play. But it is beyond me how you could remember, you being not even at the age of 3 then.”

 

Mycroft paused and pointed at Eurus and Sherrinford and almost sang, “Eurus is coming to take you, to take you, to take you. Eurus is coming to take you, to take you, to take you away....”...or 'Myké is coming...' or 'Sherrin is coming'...and then we would crawl up behind you and grab you. And you would laugh. We only played it that summer as we were on Musgrave. Never since. And I can't see how you could mix those two...let alone remember that silly game.”

 

And suddenly Sherlock could hear that song and remember the little fear and the joy when it was just his siblings and cousin, who would sneak up on him and nothing to be afraid of....

 

He looked at Mycroft and Sherrinford and Eurus, “I do remember...I do. The blanket was red and green. I had a sweater on. A yellow one...and I had my 'doggie'. That stuffed animal that looked like an Irish setter....my Redbeard. I remember!”

 

They all three looked at him...and then Mycroft continued, “That Christmas....”, he took a deep breath and looked at Sherrinford and Eurus, who just nodded, “......that Christmas everything went to hell. Your father and mother were at home. Your father was on sick-leave. He had had problems since his last deployment in Vietnam and had finally accepted a job behind the desk. Sherrinford and Eurus, who had been at boarding-school, as it is usual at our....level...in society..”

 

The last part was said as he looked at John.

 

John just glared back. Fully unimpressed, “It is fine, Mycroft. I know that you all are posh gits that never went to public schools, but all attended....Hogwarts....or something like that. It's fine! Please continue. I know where you are heading. I've heard about it at Sandhurst, but I never had made the connection between...that man...and then the Holmes family..”

 

Sherlock just looked at him with a frown. Something John knew about his family, but he didn't. It was frustrating.

 

Mycroft nodded and continued, “It all culminated the 22 nd of December. Sherrinford.....”Mycroft paused and looked at Sherrinford, …..”You must have been 14...” and then he looked at Eurus, “...and you must have been 12...” and then he looked back at Sherlock, “.....and you would turn 3 in January.”

He took a deep breath before he continued, “No one can really tell what happened, so this is speculation, based on the police-reports, the medical-reports and the forensic-reports. A lot of them actually not meant for the public eye. So...”

 

Mycroft voice changed. He had detached himself from his feelings and told it almost as a report, just like he had done, back in time as he had been an active agent in his younger days, “Silas Scott Holmes must have gone up to the nursery where little William was asleep. He must have taken a pillow and pressed it down towards the little boys face. How the boy had sense enough to stop fighting and pretend to be dead before he suffocated, no one can tell. But he must have...and he had even brain enough to remain still after the pillow was removed afterwards. Silas left his 'dead' boy and went downstairs, lying to his wife that the boy was sound asleep. Then he continued to drink his tea as if nothing had happened and watched his wife as she drank her tea filed with sedatives. When she was sound asleep, Silas took his pistol and shot her through her heart and then he activated all the fire-bombs, he had rigged through the house, and put the pistol in his own mouth and pulled the trigger......”

 

The only thing that could be heard in that room in Diogenes' was Sherlock's voice, “Continue...please...”

 

Mycroft just looked at him and it was his usual voice, he used, as he continued, “You must have got up. Have put your clothes, your trousers and a warm sweater over your pyjamas and found your wellingtons, because it was the way you were dressed as they found you outside the burning house. A 3 year old boy...with his favourite stuffed animal, his 'doggie' in one hand and his pirate-book in the other. His pirate hat on his head and his sword stuck into his trousers. The doctors later found those petechiae in your eyes and other signs, that showed that your father had tried to suffocate you with a pillow....”

 

Mycroft took a deep breath and looked at Sherlock, “Do you want me to continue?”

 

Sherlock looked up...and was thankful for the way a brain worked. Thank God he couldn't remember these incidents at all...except....maybe they were inside him after all. Deeply buried, because he had always hated when houses were at fire. That peculiar smell and then there was a scent of a special after-shave, that he loathed. 

 

“Yes please..”, Sherlock said.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Mycroft paused a few seconds before he continued, “You were brought to a hospital and given a throughout examination. Or as throughout as they could give you. You weren't very cooperative...and their excuse for their incompetent behaviour was that they never realized...before it was a bit too late, that you were deeply traumatized and must have seen the murder of your mother and the suicide of your father, not to mention that your father had tried to kill you. You were brought to an institution and stayed there until the beginning of February. When Mummy finally found out where you had been brought, the doctors had diagnosed you as 'autistic' because you refused to talk, would scream if they tried to get you out of your clothes or take your belongings away. Mummy got 'absolutely monstrous' and had yanked you out of the staff's hands and brought you home to our house immediately. She did let you see that your belongings were right next to you in a see-through plastic bag, so you could see them the whole time. And she had persuaded you to have a bath, have your hair washed and to have some clean clothes on. Then she had shown how she had put your pyjama and pants and sweater in the washing-machine and had let you sit and watch as they got clean and were hung out to dry. That night you fell asleep in a new, a little too big pyjama of mine, and in my junior-bed. And beside you in that big plastic bag were all your belongings except from the toy dog, that were firmly clutched in your hand as you finally fell asleep. To make a long story short: I got a new adopted baby-brother and.....”

 

Now Sherrinford interrupted, “And we lost our William, Eurus and I. Not that we did know you so well, but the grown-ups around us lived in that delusion that 'children forget so easily' and we got foster-parents close to our old home and were expected to cope with the loss of our parents and our baby-brother. No one cared to tell us that William had been moved from the institution and it was not until Violet Holmes invited us for Easter, that we learned that Will....” Sherrinford nodded at Sherlock, “.......sorry...Sherlock, was no longer in an institution, but had been adopted.”

 

Mycroft continued, “I was the only one who could make you speak and Mummy and father took the decision that I could be home-tutored for at least a semester or two, until you were better. Maybe it wasn't the best of ideas to make an only 7 year older cousin look after a traumatized child. But you never appeared traumatized near me. I discovered that you could read...and that you had a hunger, almost matching mine, for knowledge. So my teachers did educate you as well, as you would be sitting nearby, seemingly buried in your pirate books, but never the less listening....”

 

And like that Mycroft and Sherrinford and Eurus filled the gaps in Sherlock's remembrance of his early childhood until they reached the point where Sherlock said, “I think I do remember the rest now. But why on Earth did no one say to me that I was adopted or that I had siblings?!?”

 

Mycroft shook his head, “The authorities, the doctors and the scientists, still did agree...in the early 80ties.. that the best way to get a child over a trauma was never to mention it..”

 

Now John finally said something, “And now all the same authorities and scientists agree that it is the worst thing they can do..”

 

Sherlock looked at John, “But remember that they once thought that blood-letting could cure every disease. That quicksilver and mummy-dust were real medicine and that humiliation could cure insanity.”

 

And they all smiled. But not a happy smile.....just a loop-sided sad one.

 

Now it was Sherrinford's turn to tell, “We didn't really had any contact until we were grown-ups. That is...then only with Mycroft. That Easter where we learned that you had been adopted, we had no possibility to travel all the way to Southern England...and after that, well, time just passed. We got the annual gifts for Christmas and postcards for birthdays, but you didn't know, Sherlock, as everyone tried to avoid to mention us. And later...when we reached age of consent, we..that is Eurus, Mycroft and I, were hired by aunt Marjorie. You would know about her too, wouldn't you Doctor Watson?”

 

Sherlock frowned at John who just shook his head and mimed 'later'.

 

Sherrinford had seen the exchange between Sherlock and John but didn't react upon it and just continued, “And I ended up moving abroad to the States...”

 

Sherlock interrupted him, “That's were your accent comes from. Washington..”

 

Sherrinford nodded and said, “And Eurus moved to Russia. Mycroft stayed here in England.”

 

John could see that Sherlock had gone still. That he was in his Mind Palace. It didn't take long before Sherlock opened his eyes and said, “Oh...I see. Well who of you are Peter then? Or should I ask who is 'Demosthenes' and who is 'Locke'?”

 

Sherrinford and Euros looked at eachother and back at Mycroft, who had looked at bit confused a few seconds and now smiled broadly, “I told you! He is just as smart as the rest of us...just in another way!”

 

And John couldn't help a little laugh.....oh the look on their faces!

 

Sherrinford cleared his throat and said, “Explain, please..”

 

Sherlock waved his hand and begun, “The book 'Ender's Game' could somehow be a description of us 'Holmes-children', couldn't it?“

 

Sherrinford and Eurus nodded, “We know the book.”, both said, “But what has that got to do.....?”, did Eurus continue.

 

Sherlock interrupted, “I don't know if we all are genetic experiments or not. Seeing the connection to Baskerville, and the outside resemblance between you and me, Sherrinford. Just that you, Sherrinford, is apparently 'Peter', a cold calculating mind with only a little empathy......a 'Mycroft', but even more so. That would leave Eurus to be 'Valentine', but yet not. 'Mycroft' isn't a 'Valentine' either and that leaves me to be her......I have a lot of emotion, I admit that, so...it seems that they never succeed in making an 'Ender'....the child with both a cold calculating mind and yet empathy enough to gain friends and helpers....”

 

Sherlock paused, and looked at Sherrinford, Eurus and Mycroft, “The most pressing question is now. Which of you killed Carl Powers?”

 


	4. Chapter 4

All three Holmes-relatives looked at each other and then Mycroft asked, “How...why do you think one of us did that?!”

 

Again Sherlock just looked at them and then he began his deductions, “This is the only way it fits. You, Sherrinford, are in a position in USA. You must have falsified your papers, so you were born there...and you are just waiting for the idiot, who currently is the president, to make such a fool of himself, that people would be desperate to accept you as president. And you, Eurus, are now the 'gray eminence' behind the Russian President. I even remember seeing your features on photos, standing close to him. Mycroft is here in Great Britain, being the 'British Government' and just like 'Peter' and 'Valentine' managed to rule the world together, you plan to do the same. But there is a tiny problem...an obstacle. The 'damaged' little brother. Brilliant, yes, or just 'maybe brilliant'. In another way than the rest of you. But damaged. It was shown as I was unable to attend primary-school. As I gained no friends at boarding-school. As I remained lonely at University. And as I began to use drugs. A security-defect.....someone it would be smarter to get rid of....or maybe even use as a chess-piece on your world-sized-chess-board. A pawn? Or maybe even a 'Queen' to be sacrificed if the 'King' was threatened. I know that a chess-board for three players does exist. But the real world is more complicated than a chess-board...but why not 3 players on a three-player world-size chessboard?”

 

Sherlock pointed at Sherrinford, Eurus and Mycroft in turn, “ _ Means, motive and opportunity.... _ Well,  _ means _ was the poison. And you, Eurus, is a chemist like me.  _ Opportunity.... _ all three of you, actually, since you were all in England at that time. And  _ motive,  _ well I suppose, that you just wanted to see if it could be done?”

 

Mycroft was the one, who shook his head, “No, the motive was that he was a bully. He bullied the younger children, those who couldn't swim as good as he could, those who had a lesser fortunate background than him....and he bullied you, Sherlock!”

 

Sherlock just looked sad, “Not worse than the others....”

 

Sherrinford now said, “You are right. We wanted to find out if we could work together....and we did. And I kept the shoe as a sort of trophy... a reminder.”

 

“And used it to destroy me later!”, said Sherlock.

 

Mycroft now looked a bit uncomfortable, “We had the best intentions. Did put everything in order so you could have a nice flat with a woman, who could look a bit after you......”

 

Sherlock looked at him in shock, “Mrs. Hudson was...was hired by you?!”

 

Sherrinford smirked, “Why do you think she could afford a house in the centre of London? Returning from the States in her age with almost no money? Why do you think she put up with you? A normal landlady would have had you kicked out ages ago!”

 

Now Mycroft spoke, “You are really naive sometimes, Sherlock. Why do you think you were allowed to see secret police-files?”

 

Sherlock whispered, “Lestrade too?”

 

Eurus spoke, “We did it to...well...keep you safe. Alive.....You were suicidal, and needed cases to occupy your mind. And we invented a villain and a purpose to prevent you from killing yourself...”

 

Sherlock shook his head, “You utter morons! The minute I met John, I stopped being suicidal! But you forced me to 'dance'.....to do your dirty work all over the world, making me believe that I was entangling Moriarty's network. Do you know what it did to me....to John?!”

 

John was trying to say something, but Sherlock had got on his feet and had turned his back to Sherrinford and Eurus and had swiftly removed his jacket and shirt.

Now Eurus and Sherrinford could see Sherlock's scarred back. The scars weren't so 'angry' and red anymore. But still very visible.

 

Sherlock's voice was very low as he said, “I was caught in Serbia. By Maupertuis' men. I was tortured for weeks. Tortured with means that didn't leave marks...and with implements, that did leave marks. I was raped and tethered to a wall so my shoulders have permanent damage. I was burned and whipped, starved and deprived of water. I have kidney-damage because of that. I was water-boarded and thought I was going to die. And my 'brother'...”

 

Here Sherlock pointed at Mycroft, “....took his time to get to me, even if you must have known I was there. And you, Mycroft, watched the tugs beat me for hours, before you got me out. So much for 'keeping me occupied' and 'keeping me alive'!”

 

And he dressed again and just sat down.

 

Now Sherrinford spoke, “Believe me, Sherlock, we never indented it to go so far. But it developed faster than we had anticipated. And the criminal, we had contacted...well he got out of hand. Jeff Hope worked all right. We paid him and...”

 

Sherlock frowned. “And if I had taken the wrong pill?”

 

Now it was Mycroft's turn to answer, “You would have fallen asleep. Those people didn't die before they later were injected with the poison.”

 

“But the autopsy said nothing about...” protested Sherlock...and then he understood, “Oh...Molly. On your pay-roll too?”

 

“Yes...and unfortunately our hired criminal, Jim Moriarty, turned out to be totally insane.....and..”

 

Sherlock almost shouted, “People died because of your little game. A lot of people died. Those Jeff Hope killed and others and some were traumatized for life. How do you think that little blindfolded boy did cope afterwards? The poisoned children from the factory? The little old lady...and her neighbours? They. Fucking. Died!”

 

Sherlock did hide his head in his hands, “John was the best thing that ever happened to me....and then you took us away form eachother. Finally the Universe had randomly done something that turned out to be good...”

 

John cleared his throat and said, “Not 'randomly' Sherlock. I'm sorry. But I was picked out, chosen and put on you. Just like Lestrade....like Mrs. Hudson....like Molly.”

 

Sherlock looked up, “You?”

 

John smiled a bit sadly, “Why do you think that you were allowed to 'steal' all those body-parts and see the secret medical journals and use the equipment at Bart's? Why do you think it was so easy to find a flatmate? I was put on you after I got wounded. You never wondered why I had 3 educations. How I could be a GP...and a real captain with battle experience......and a trauma-surgeon? It doesn't fit. There are months lacking on my CV, but you never noticed. IF I had been an army doctor, I would have been of the rank of major and never have had active battle-experience. Army doctors are behind the line. Safe in the camps. So...I had to leave Sandhurst at a point...as a lieutenant. I finished my medical education at Bart's as a GP. Or 'almost finished' as I got an offer that brought me back to Sandhurst and an education as captain and a paramedic with trauma-surgery as speciality.”

John huffed and continued, “If you ever need first-aid, then choose a paramedic and never a doctor. The latter is actually not educated in first-aid.”

 

Sherlock just looked at him. His whole world had been turned upside down, “You were paid to be my friend?”, was all he could ask.

 

John shook his head, “Well, yeah....in the beginning. But we became real friends. I liked you and admired you....even if you were a brat and a cock a lot of times. But I liked you...and genuinely believed that I had failed to protect you, when you had to jump. You see...”

 

And he pointed at Mycroft, Sherrinford and Eurus, “I had failed to do my job good enough, And I was kept in the dark and punished....I thought you to have died for real. That was my punishment, that I didn't know you were alive.”

 

John shook his head, “For all their brilliance....those 3 have never understood human nature. Feelings. I almost committed suicide after you jumped and Mary was partly put on me to prevent that. A miscalculation, since she was freelance and working for their enemies. Or just for those who would pay the most.”

 

John pointed at Mycroft, “He found 'Mary'...and when he found out that she had connection to his enemies, I was ordered to keep her close...to marry her. They never understood how much it would hurt you to see me do that.....and then she got pregnant. It wasn't the plan. I have been told that I'm almost infertile because of the throughout sepsis I had because of my wound after I was shot, but it only takes one living sperm-cell to....”

 

“Yes...I do understand.”, said Sherlock and continued, “But I do not understand why you had to be so violent against me in the restaurant..”

 

“I lost it.”, admitted John, “I have a terrible temper. And I was so sure that you knew about it all. That you had just played me, just like your siblings. It never occurred to me, that they had used you as a chess-piece as well. Well not until much later. When 'Mary' shot you.....and those 3 didn't dare to do something to her because of that. She still had the connection to their enemies...and if you didn't survive...Well, you could be sacrificed if it gave them the wanted result...”

 

Sherlock looked at his siblings and saw nothing but coldness. Mycroft was the one, who spoke, “Honestly, Sherlock. Please understand. You were a security risk. And if your death would have made her 'show her hand' so to speak, then we  were willing to pay the price...”

 

Sherlock spluttered, ”YOU were willing? YOU! It was my life....and...and...”

 

And then he stopped talking and just looked around, “No...why do I even bother? I was manipulated into shooting Magnussen, because I was stupid enough to believe that I protected my 'friend' and his wife and their unborn child.....and...”

 

Sherlock now looked at John and realized that he had never really seen the real John Watson.

 

“You, John...I have always accused you of being such a lousy actor. You were much to honest for that sort of deceit. And now I see that I was totally wrong...about you. About Mycroft...about everyone.” And Sherlock did hide his head in his hands.

 

John looked at him, “I'm still your friend, Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock lifted his head, “No...you are not. What friend would tell his best friend to 'fuck off' after said friend had returned from Hell on Earth after two and a half year? Even if you were hurt, you didn't even ask someone..anyone... how I was, after you had beaten the shit out of me. What friend would tell his best friend to 'fuck off' after said friend had worked his arse off to make the best wedding ever? What friend would yell and insult when his best friend was in a rough place and had started using again? Because that was what I had done,...then. Molly slapped me. You cursed at me, but had never bothered to check on me. What kind of help was that? What kind of friend would again tell his best friend to fuck off after his wife had decided to take the bullet aimed at said best friend. You knew that 'Mary' was an agent at that time. You knew by then, that she had betrayed her group and you knew that she had tried to kill me and I don't know her motive for throwing herself in front of that bullet, but she did. And it was her decision. What friend would attack and kick 'his best friend' when said friend was dying of poisoning? Directing your own anger and hurt and betrayal at the wrong person. I realize now that you have never been my friend!”

 

Sherlock got up on his feet, “I have no friends......and apparently no family I can trust. Just you all leave me alone!”

 

And they watched in silence as Sherlock left the room.

 

Sherlock hailed a cab and gave his address to the cabbie. Home a Baker Street he just opened the front door and went inside.

 

Mrs. Hudson tried to talk to him, but he just glared at her a few seconds before he said, very calmly, “You can report to my arse of a 'brother'....If you should have any doubt, I'm referring to Mycroft Holmes, that I do not want to see you upstairs ever again. I would appreciate if you would make sure that we do not meet on this staircase as well.”

 

“Well, Sherlock, I've never....” Mrs. Hudson began, but was interrupted by Sherlock. And she had never seen such coldness in his eyes.

 

“I'm fully aware of the arrangements that you have made with my siblings regarding this flat and the 'babysitting' of me. To be frank. You can all go and fuck yourself!”

 

And Sherlock continued upstairs and made sure that he slammed his door, before he took of his coat and laid down on the couch. He would give himself time to think a while....before he would plan his revenge. If anyone of those arseholes just thought he would give up so easily, they were wrong. He had tried once before to make his death count. He could do that again. Bringing them all down with him.

 

Just...while he was lying there on the couch, there was a constant disturbing sound interrupting his thoughts. That sound was making it difficult for him to stay in his Mind-Palace. Irritating!

 


	5. Waking up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in reality again. I went for the EMP-theory. 'The extended Mind Palace' theory, that says that everything happening since Sherlock was shot in Magnussen's bedroom is happening in Sherlock's mind.

The sound continued and now Sherlock couldn't really see anything anymore. It was suddenly dark around him. It was as if he was floating...his body was heavy and he was surrounded by a strange smell. Had he been poisoned?! Had the cakes, he had been eating at the Diogenes', been drugged? What was happening?

 

He heard a voice in the heavy darkness now surrounding him: “Sherlock! Sherlock...come back again. You are so close. Come back to me again, Love. Please!”

 

It was strange. It was John's voice. There was something important he should remember about John...but it kept slipping away.

 

Now Sherlock heard Mycroft's voice. “Please, little brother. You are so close. Try a bit harder and come back to us. Please!”

 

Sherlock should remember something important about Mycroft too. But it did slip away all the time. Why was he so weak and tired? What had happened?

 

Finally Sherlock felt that he could open his eyes. His vision was blurred, but he could hear John's voice very clear now and see a dark figure against some light.

 

“That is it, Sherlock. Don't slip back under again, Love. Stay...for me? Please?”, said John.

 

Sherlock tried to say something, but discovered that he couldn't. His mouth opened, but not a single sound came out. Why was his mouth so dry?

 

“That is it. Stay awake. But, Sherlock, you can't speak for now. Wait a second!”

 

And then Sherlock felt something touching his mouth. Something cold. Ice-chips. And as they melted in his mouth, the terrible dryness, that had felt as if he was containing all the sand from Sahara in his mouth, disappeared....and now he felt something pressing gently against a sore spot on his throat.

 

Again John's voice, “I'm sorry Sherlock. You have been 'under' for such a long time, that they have made a tracheo-stomy on you. You are breathing on your own again, but they didn't dare remove the tube yet. I'm holding something over the hole, so you can try to speak now, if you want.”

 

John pressed a piece of gauze towards the hole in Sherlock's throat and showed Sherlock how he could close the hole, if he wanted to talk.

 

“You are going to have another scar to you collection, I'm afraid...”, John said.

 

As John saw the questions and the confusion in Sherlock's eyes John explained, “I don't know how much you remember, but you have been unconscious...on and off...since you were shot in Magnussen's office more than 6 months ago. And....”

 

John took a deep breath and grappled for Sherlock's hand with his left hand, “....Mycroft and I...and Molly and Mrs. Hudson and Greg, we have all of us taken turns in keeping vigil over you. And at a point I saw your back....and Mycroft told me what he had seen been done to you in Serbia and what he had done to get you out. Even if you managed quite a bit of getting rid of the tugs yourself. And Mycroft showed me.....”

 

Again John took a deep breath and gave Sherlock's hand a squeeze, “...Oh Sherlock, forgive me for all the hurt and sorrow I've caused you. Mycroft showed me the pictures taken by the doctors in Berlin, before they started mending your back.....and then he showed me what my anger had done to you, as you showed up in that restaurant that evening. And I'm so sorry.....so so sorry.”

 

“It is all right...”, whispered Sherlock hoarsely, “.....you couldn't possibly have known..”

 

And then he continued in a voice barely above a whisper, “What happened? I've had the weirdest dreams.......I don't know what is reality and dream anymore.....”

 

Now Mycroft's face came into Sherlock's vision, “Well. First and foremost you are safe. This is a private hospital and the threats against your life ...have been dealt with. But it is a long story and you need to be patient. It is going to take some time, before you'll be able to hear it all...”

 

John, who could see the confusion in Sherlock's eyes, hurried to explain, “You were shot. In the chest. The bullet nicked the top of your liver and located itself near the cardiac-sac and made a tiny rupture in that, thus filling it slowly with blood, whilst you had internal bleeding from the liver damage too. You flat-lined 3 times: 2 times in the ambulance and one on the operating table..”

 

John had to take a deep breath and his eyes filled with tears, “Oh God, Sherlock. They had given up on you. Had turned their backs on you. Even if they tried to replace the lost blood by pumping a lot into you again, your heart didn't start again...and they considered you 'a lost cause'. I know there is still hope, even if people have been shot, if you just can open up and find the ruptured area and stitch it together....but what do A&E doctors in London know about gun-shot wounds?! So they hadn't even bothered to open you up to find the cause....”

 

Mycroft interrupted John, “As soon as I found out how incompetent they had treated your injury, they were replaced with other more competent surgeons.....and you were removed to this private clinic immediately after we had discovered the security-breakage...”

 

John took Sherlock's hand again, “Somehow the bullet had moved inside you and made the rupture in the cardiac-sac a bit bigger and that drained the blood away...enough to make your heart able to beat again. But how you managed to restart your own heart, well, that is a god-damned miracle...”

 

Sherlock interrupted with a hoarse whisper, “I imagined you were in danger. I was in my Mind-Palace, trying to avoid going into shock because of the pain...and then I imagined that you were in danger!”

 

John smiled at him, “My brilliant genius. Adrenaline....yes it works. But I think that we have used our ration of miracles for the rest of our lives by now. Rest Sherlock, sleep. But please do not disappear into your head again. Promise?”

 

“Promise..”, whispered Sherlock and the last thing he felt before he allowed himself to sleep was, John's hand gently stroking through Sherlock's hair.

______________________________

 

Over the next couple of days, Sherlock got gradually better and better. The tracheo-tube had been removed and the wound would only leave a small scar. And John and Sherlock talked and talked.

 

The private clinic had offered John a room next to Sherlock's and John told that he had practically lived in there since Sherlock had been shot.

 

Already the first day, as Sherlock woke up again, John had explained more about what had happened that evening the 10th of September 2014...more than 6 months ago. It was a bit confusing for Sherlock since he , in his mind, had reached the year 2015.

 

One of the first things, Sherlock had asked was the whereabouts of Mary ......”And Rosie?”

 

“Rosie?!”, had John wanted to know.

 

“Your daughter!”

 

And finally John understood, “Oh..well. 'Mary' left her 'pregnancy' in our bathroom, before she killed Magnussen and tried to flee...”

 

Sherlock just looked at him and John explained, “I better start from the beginning: In the evening you and I entered Magnussen office the day where I found you in the drug-den...”

 

Sherlock looked a bit embarrassed, “I remember that and I remember that I only had intended to use such a little amount that it could be traced...and 'feed' Magnussen's suspicion that I was using again. But it was too tempting and I used too much...”

 

“Mostly to be blamed on me, I know, Sherlock. I was such an arse towards you. Didn't even bother to contact you, my best friend and the planner of the most magnificent wedding...”

 

Sherlock looked a bit hurt by John's words, because Sherlock had hoped that.....

 

“Oh don't look like that, Sherlock. It was a wonderful wedding. Just....I married the wrong person.”

 

Now Sherlock looked confused. John surely didn't mean that...?

 

John rose, “You don't remember much, do you?”

 

And then he went over to Sherlock's bed. Took Sherlock's head gently in his hand and bowed down over Sherlock's head and kissed Sherlock. Sherlock hesitated for a fraction of a second and then he reciprocated the kiss with a strength that surprised John.

 

“Whoa...Sherlock. Easy.....be careful....”

 

And then John looked into Sherlock eyes, “You...you really didn't remember?”

 

Sherlock closed his eyes and said, “I might have deleted the solar-system. But I could never have deleted that I finally kissed you......but apparently I did. So when did we kiss the first time?”

 

“Just before you 'slipped under' again and remained unconscious for nearly 6 months.”, answered John.

 

Sherlock frowned, “Why don't I remember?”

 

“I don't know? Maybe because you were rather drugged? You had had a heart attack again.......By the look you are giving me, I better tell what happened, don't I?”, asked John.

 

“Yes, please.”, answered Sherlock.

 

And then John told about the events on the 10th of September. How Magnussen had managed to dial 112 and how the line had been kept open. The operator had heard every word Mary had exchanged with Sherlock...and had called for the police and ambulance the moment he had heard the gun-shot. Of course Lestrade, John and Mycroft then learned about Mary's deceit, but decided to keep it a secret to 'flush out' Mary and her helpers. Mary had called 112 a few seconds later and canceled the emergency-call, but they hadn't obeyed that because of the gun-shot and the ambulance had arrived just in time. And yet not. Since Sherlock flat-lined.

 

Then John told how Mary had fled and how he had found the wounded Sherlock on the floor in Magnussen's bedroom. How Sherlock finally had pulled trough after finally having been operated on and how Sherlock's first word had been 'Mary'...

 

“Yeah...I know. You told her...”, said Sherlock.

 

John shook his head, “No way. I couldn't have told her anything. I didn't see her until several days later and that last time I saw her, I didn't say much, before I shot her!”

 

“You did what?!”

 

“Shot her. She had been in the hospital, just like Magnussen. In your room. While you were almost unconscious. Both of them threatened you. Had come into your room despite the guards. It was three days after you had been shot. Don't you remember?”

 

And Sherlock remembered. How Magnussen had almost raped him...and how Mary had told him “not to tell John.”

 

John smiled, “The only reason why they didn't manage to harm you more, was that a nurse discovered them and had dialed Mycroft immediately. Mary had seen Magnussen on the parking lot at the hospital and followed him secretly. She shot him right through his head about a week after and tried to flee out of the country afterwards. But I was waiting for her in our flat. The morning after you were shot, I went home to grasp a fresh shirt and a few necessities and.....” John took a deep breath.....”She had been at home to. Had tried to hide her assassin-outfit. Oh god...she must have thought me to be so stupid...because it was so easy to find. Hidden behind the cupboard in the bathroom and under the bathtub, behind the paneling. Including the false pregnancy-belly. Or rather 'bellies' as there were several. So...no 'Rosie'. Mary had never been pregnant.”

 

“Oh...well, then she fooled me.”, said Sherlock.

 

“Not me so much. Not when I had time to think. Not when her behaviour was a bit off at our honeymoon. The 'belly' can be faked. And the change in taste and the nausea. But not the hormones: the swelling, the blotches. And there were none of that. How she would have imagined that I, a god-damned doctor, wouldn't notice? You have taught me your methods...and she wasn't skilled enough to pretend it all, so I _would_ notice that she wasn't pregnant at all. And she wasn't skilled enough to hide the assassin-items well enough. I just put everything back...wrote her a note about you being shot and that I was staying at the hospital......and then I called Mycroft and told him to protect you and keep and eye on the flat and then I returned to the hospital. I was ready as soon as I was told that Mary had returned to the flat, after she had shot Magnussen. He had threatened her about giving the informations about her: her new name, her job, her address, the way she looked now....to her enemies. And that they would be released, if he should die a violent death. That is why she shot you and not Magnussen that evening. But during the next days she must have decided that her cower was blown too much to be saved and she just wanted to leave the country with all our combined savings and her false passports.

I was waiting for her in our living-room. Sitting in the armchair and I just told her that you had died, just to see her reaction. That was the time where she did reach for her own gun. And I shot her right between her eyes. And then Mycroft's men came and cleaned up the mess. And I haven't been in that flat since.”

 

“And the kiss?”, wanted Sherlock to know.

 

John smiled, “You had been improving. Was conscious most of the time and Janine had visited you two times and I suspect that you two had come to an agreement and had planned something...”

 

Ad Sherlock could remember that he and Janine had planned the whole media-stunt. Just to 'disarm' one of Magnussen's pressure-points, that Sherlock was gay. Janine had said that she could forgive Sherlock for pretending to love her just to get to Magnussen.

“Magnussen deserves everything that could come in his direction.” , Janine had said, “He is a bully...an abuser....and he can't even see it himself.”

But she found it impossible to forgive Mary, “She could have killed me with that blow to my head. And she killed the guard!”

 

“And then, right after you had been removed to this clinic, you had a heart-attack....” explained John.

 

Sherlock smiled, “Yeah...at Baker Street. I had tried to make you and Mary talk...because she worked for Moriarty and...”

 

That was the moment where Mycroft came into the room. He had heard the last part of the conversation.

 

He shook his head, “That she had worked for Moriarty, was something I told you...and you were in no condition to go to Baker Street. You couldn't even leave your bed..”

 

Sherlock frowned, “It was all in my head, then?”

 

And then Sherlock told how he had climbed out of his bed, made that set-up with Leinster Garden and how he had made John and Mary talk. And how he had been in pain the whole time and had lost consciousness and how the paramedics had restarted his heart.

 

“But it was all in my head. I see that now...it was a bit blurred and weird at some times. Things I couldn't remember. How I got from the hospital to Leinster Garden. The flat looked a bit different too. So....I was just in my mind. But it doesn't explain the kiss...”

 

John smiled again and looked a bit embarrassed, “Well...I thought you were dying again...and I lost it. Kissed you. Told you how much I loved you. Told you how sorry I was and begged you not to die. I think I promised you the Moon and the Sun and that I would never leave you...and you woke up a bit, confessed that you had always loved me. We kissed and you lost consciousness again...”

 

“And that was the time....said Mycroft, “....where I had to remove John, sedate him, and have him put to bed. He hadn't slept for more than 50 hours. I couldn't risk that you....when you awoke, Sherlock, would have had a John with a heart attack as well...and in the worst-case-scenario....,” But Mycroft never finished that sentence. It wasn't necessary.

 

John again took Sherlock's hand, “I read in your expression that Mycroft was right. That you do care more about me...than just being a friend?”

 

“I do. I'm in love with you, John. Have been ever since we met. But I didn't dare hope....I didn't want to risk anything. I've been rejected before. Rather vehemently...and I...”, whispered Sherlock.

 

“I know. Victor Trevor. You see, Sherlock. Mycroft and I...we had a lot of time to talk, here in this room, while you were unconscious. I read some of our old cases aloud too. A lot of books...and sometimes Mycroft, or Greg or Molly or Mrs. Hudson, we would just sit here talking, knowing that you might hear some of it. There was a lot of REM-phase brain-waves...it is just....as if you never could pass beyond that phase and wake up properly....And I love you too. Am in love with you. I just denied it, because that part of me had been beaten out of me.”

 

Sherlock nodded, “Yeah...I know. By your father. But I never wanted to tell you that I knew about your childhood and youth...”

 

John shook his head, “It is all right. I've come to terms with it now. And I've even contacted Harry again. Your brother has helped me find a rehabilitation-center, a good one this time, and Harry did agree to give it a try. Clara has even visited Harry there. They might give it another try when Harry has finished her treatment. And Sherlock....I do hope that you don't mind, and Mrs. Hudson said it was OK. But I've moved my things back to Baker Street again...”

 

“On one condition, “ murmured Sherlock, already on the brink of sleep again, “...and that is that you are not sleeping in the room upstairs...”

 

“Agreed...”, said John and kissed him again.

 

 


	6. The end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finished. I hope you enjoyed it. And yes...I know. Writing that it was EMP-theory since Sherlock was shot...it is a bit easy. I know....

Of course it wasn't that easy. John had so many more questions about what had happened while Sherlock had been travelling around the world in his more than two years away. Because John could see now how much of an arse he had been for not asking, for not wondering, for not seeing the hurt in Sherlock's eyes and the stiffness in Sherlock's movements even if a month had passed after John's attack in the restaurant as Sherlock returned.

 

So over the next many weeks...the time it took for Sherlock to at least get so well, that he could manage to move around without the wheelchair and manage to eat on his own, they had time to talk and explain. Not only John and Sherlock, but with Mycroft as a participant too. And Sherlock told about how he had tried to play out different scenarios in his head. The things that his mind had invented and investigated, had been coloured by the things , he had heard whilst being almost unconscious. The old cases, John had read out aloud. The old cold cases, that Greg had brought with him, just to have something to read out loud for Sherlock. The old stories Mrs. Hudson had read for him and that Molly had read too. The things John and Mycroft had talked about. Because during Sherlock's hospitalization, John and Mycroft had become sort of friends, united by their worry for Sherlock's fate. John had learned to appreciate Mycroft's dry humour, so similar to Sherlock's. And Mycroft had learned to appreciate John's intelligence and personality...and they had found, that they both shared a fondness for 'Film Noire' and horror-movies.

 

One of the first things Sherlock had asked Mycroft about was if they ever had had a sister. And had they lived at a place called 'Musgrave' with false gravestones?....And what on Earth 'Sherrinford' had been?

And Mycroft explained, as Sherlock had told his reasons for his questions, that he, Mycroft, indeed had talked to John about some strange events from Sherlock's childhood.

“But nothing like that horror-story, that your mind invented.”, had Mycroft explained.

John felt a bit guilty about that, because he had seen some of those old horror-movies on his lap-top together with Mycroft whilst they were sitting next to the unconscious Sherlock, and some of it must have 'bled' through to Sherlock's mind.

 

And Mycroft explained, “I was the eldest. Eurus was born 4 years after me...and you, Sherlock, three years after Eurus. Eurus and I genuinely thought you to be an idiot, because you were 'so much behind' and no one bothered to tell this 9 year old boy and his 4 year younger sister that a boy at the age of two wouldn't be able to do so much..yet. The reason why she was seldom mentioned and why there is only a few pictures of her and that you can't remember her, is the tragedy surrounding her death. You were 2 and a half year old that summer. And yes...our old house was Musgrave Hall, Mummy's childhood-home. If you do recall pictures from then, I was...rather chubby and Eurus had that curly mop of hair just like you had later. You must have thought, without asking, that some of the pictures you thought were of you and me, were indeed of Eurus and me. She had the same chestnut hair-colour as you had. She was brilliant, could even surpass me in some areas. Playing an instrument. Just like you, Sherlock, just that she played the piano. I was the one who played the violin as well and I was the one, who taught you.”

John looked at Mycroft, when he said that. He hadn't imagined that it was Mycroft, who had taught Sherlock to play.

“You began with a child-size one as you turned 3...after...the incident...” Mycroft paused and took a deep breath, “That summer, were you were still only 2 and a half, we were staying by some relatives. Uncle Rudy, Aunt Marilyn and their children Sherrinford, who was 2 years my senior, and Marjorie, who was about 5, just like Eurus. Uncle Rudy and aunt Marilyn had this house, similar to Musgrave Hall and with those false gravestones. They were uncle Rudy's ideas of a joke. I never understood the joke, though. That house was close to the sea. And that day we were all at the beach. The weather was nice and you had been placed on a plaid, guarded by uncle Rudy's Irish Setter. She had fallen in love with you and refused totally to leave your side.

The rest of us played pirates at the beach...”

 

The confession that Mycroft had actually 'played' as a child, made him sort of embarrassed, and Sherlock and John decided not to comment on that, as they listened to Mycroft's narrative. He told that the tide had arrived, but they were used to that, those other Holmes-children, and the grown-ups didn't worry either...until it was discovered that the screams were not play but fear.

“The top of a hidden cave had given in, and Eurus and Sherrinford had fallen into it. I and Marjorie were hanging on on the rim and were very close to be sucked down into the water as well.”

Mycroft paused again, “Before the grown-ups arrived, Marjorie fell down as well and as the water rose rapidly, she drowned just like Eurus and Sherrinford......”

 

Mycroft didn't say anything for a while. Then he looked at Sherlock, “Uncle Rudy and aunt Marilyn never recovered from that blow. They couldn't stand looking at you and me and a few months later they left for Australia. Their house just crumbled.....and I remember that we visited it once. It was very much in ruins, but the fake gravestones were still there. I remember that the 5 year old Sherlock was very fascinated by them and complained that they didn't make any sense...”

 

“And Redbeard?”, wanted Sherlock to know.

 

“Was our dog. Became our dog for many years. Uncle Rudy and aunt Marilyn had asked father and mummy if we wanted her. You were not ...suited...for being with other children, Sherlock. Brilliant, but too emotional. So I was home-tutored and you were too. Maybe because mummy didn't dare to let us out of her sight the first years. And as 'Redbeard' had to be put down, you broke down. At that time I had left for Harrow and you must have been rather lonely. I tried to teach you to make a distance to you feelings, not to care so much...but I realize now that it...it was a shitty advise....”

 

Sherlock rose and went on weak legs to his brother and gave him a hug, “You did your best...You were there when I needed you the most. Most of the time....”Sherlock said.

 

Mycroft shook his head, “I did let you down a few times. When you were in France on that MI6 job and because of that never finished you education as a chemist.....and when I tried to make a deal with Moriarty. I failed you in Serbia......and I failed to see who Mary really was.......”

 

Sherlock still hugged Mycroft, “We are human. We make mistakes. We are allowed to do that.....all of us. Even you, Mycroft...and me...and John.”

 

Because John had to come to terms with his own negligence. His refusal of seeing the real Sherlock. For not seeing the love Sherlock had shown him...in his own a bit strange ways. Sherlock's politeness....always lifting the police-tape for John. Making tee. Trying to be considerate and caring for John's needs. Politely accepting, prior to the jump from Bart's, all John's girlfriends, even he had had a tendency to point out their weak spots.....and then bravely accepting that John didn't want him in his life and not making contact to him before Mary had contacted Sherlock to save John.

 

Finally Sherlock was allowed to leave the clinic and everything had been solved. Sort of. 'Moriarty' had been that criminal genius, he had claimed to be. Just...he had never been totally on his own. He had been a part of...and not at all the head of ... the international criminal network. Sherlock had stumbled upon the real leader, Baron Maupertuis, and Mycroft's revenge (paid by the English tax-payer's money) on the people that had captured and tortured Sherlock, as it had been the agents of M16, who had done the final job and blown the place to pieces, had ended that vast criminal network as well. 'Moriarty' had not been the name of the man, but the network....and the leader would have been called 'Moriarty'. The man who shot himself on the rooftop of Sct. Bartholomew Hospital, had been 'Richard Brook', an actor...but at the same time the leader of the criminal network in England and Western Europe.

 

So. Back in Baker Street 221B again. Sherlock still as thin as a stick and using a cane, but he was there and alive and John and Sherlock were together.

 

As John and Sherlock were alone again and had time to talk, Sherlock did learn that John had been abducted by Magnussen's men outside Baker Street, because John finally had decided to see how Sherlock was doing and had taken a cab to Baker Street that evening of the 4th of November. Sherlock had really believed John to have hated him and only accepted Sherlock back in his life after Sherlock had saved him from the bonfire. Their conversation in the empty wagon filled with explosives had been...strange and off....and Sherlock now excused for his forcing John's forgiveness out of him.

 

“Truth be told, John...I didn't know if the off-switch was a booby trap. And that it wouldn't explode the moment I turned it off. And I still have a feeling that not everything was to be taken at face-value regarding all that explosive material and the plan of blowing the Parliament to the moon.”

 

John had that feeling too. Could Mycroft had planned something that false and big, just to have an excuse to use government-money to free Sherlock from Baron Maupertuis' dungeons?

 

And finally Sherlock could admit why he had accepted Mary in John's life. He had genuinely believed, that she was what John wanted and needed, and now, sitting in that private clinic, Sherlock told how difficult it had been to 'give' John away. To accept that that tiny piece of hope that had brought Sherlock through all his ordeals those more than two years away from England, had to be put away at the wedding. Even more so because Sherlock had seen John together with Sholto and had to acknowledge that it wasn't because Sherlock was a man, that John didn't want him, but because Sherlock was...well 'Sherlock' and didn't deserve John. And he told John a bit more of his thoughts, his playing out scenarios in his mind, figuring out how Mary could be forgiven, because John needed her. Shooting Magnussen to keep John, Mary and the up-coming baby safe. How Sherlock had imagined 'Rosie' to look and behave and his relationship with John and Mary and the baby as well.

 

.......but John had just looked at him, as Sherlock had told everything he had imagined...and that very vividly....in his own mind. John had just shock his head and said, “You utterly madman. There is no way, even with a real baby on its way, that I could and would in any way have been able to forgive Mary. No way. I am a bit disappointed that you would believe that about me...”

 

And that was the point where Sherlock decided not to tell about his scenarios with a dying Mary, a furious John, a John that tried to beat Sherlock into a pulp. The scenario with a Culverton that had tried to kill Sherlock and the weird scenarios with first Eurus as a killer and then as a film-maker. And that Sherlock's family had been almost as complicated in his mind as the one in the real life. Because Sherlock's mind must have made a 'wrong' John Watson. Sherlock could see that now. That John's love for him was deep and genuine and that this...the 'real' John never could have behaved like that. That it was Sherlock's insecurity, his self-loathing, that had spoken and not John Hamish Watson, from the  Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. Three years in Afghanistan, a veteran of Kandahar, Helmand, and  Bart’s Hospital. That John Watson. With the kind hands and a core of steel. The John Watson who loved this ridiculous Sherlock Holmes, with all his flaws and failures.

 

“A penny for your thoughts...” said John's voice.

 

And Sherlock just smiled back, “I...I just think it is a bloody miracle that someone like you can love someone like me!” 

 

And John rose and went over to Sherlock's chair, bowed down and kissed him gently before he spoke, “And here I am marvelling over the fact that this genius, this gorgeous man, who could pose as a model in every Magazine in the world, this man with that utterly brilliant mind, can love someone as ordinary as me...”

 

“But that's it...you are not ordinary...not at all..”, said Sherlock and looked John deep into his eyes and then they kissed again.

________________

 

And now I think I'll leave them there. They could use some privacy...in the living room at Baker Street 221B. Just the two of them.....against the rest of the world. 

 

 


End file.
